Did It Hurt?
by Crazy Fool Stiney
Summary: Dean Winchester liked his life just the way it was. Surrounded by good friends, a big shot lawyer little brother and an awesome job retro-refurbing transports. Which meant he wasn't the least bit interested in a 'bot companion. So how'd he end up with one... a damaged one anyway? And if CS-TL really was broken, why were so many people trying to get their hands on him? (Dean/Cas)


**IMPORTANT A/N:** _**I started this story during the summer but took it down after my life nose dived into crap lake.  
After clawing my way back out, I feel I'm at a place I can finally give this story the attention it deserves. Thank you for bearing with me. :)**_

* * *

**_Year: 2375_ **  
**__****Earth - Heavenly Creatures, Inc. Headquarters - Private work room of Naomi Shurley, CEO **

_95%..._

_96%..._

_97%..._

_98%..._

_99%..._

_100%..._

_SYSTEM REBOOT COMPLETE_

_Now loading HC-BOT: CS-TL..._

_Complete. May now begin interface._

"CS-TL, how are you feeling?"

_Processing..._

"I..."

_Processing..._

"I feel..." **_WARNING:_**_ RETURN ERROR FOUND..._

_Processing... CORRECTION MADE... _"I do not understand your question."

"Excellent. Well done, CS-TL."[[MORE]]

**_Year: 2375_ **  
**__****Earth - Kansas District - Lawrence Sector - Cessation quarters of Dean Winchester **

If anyone asked later, Dean would blame it on the Balok Ale or maybe the fact he'd lost a hundred credits to Victor in the span of one night.

Whatever it was, he knew the one thing it wasn't..._loneliness_. Nope. No friggin' way.

He hadn't really been paying attention to the commercial, more like drunkenly staring at it while taking a break from getting his ass handed to him at poker. But of course, Victor noticed and, being the asshole he was, had to say something.

"Looks like I know what to get you for your birthday."

"Huh?" Dean questioned, trying to focus his blurry green eyes on the vid as Sam and Benny smirked from their spots around the table.

On the screen a very serious, power suit clad woman sat behind a desk in a stark environment.

_'What the hell is Henriksen talking about?'_

It wasn't until another woman with fiery red hair stepped into the frame and the words _Heavenly Creatures_ appeared that Dean understood.

"Oh, fuck you, Victor. I don't need a 'bot." He groaned as the other men erupted into amused howls.

"Not when you've got your _Baby_ parked in the garage, right? Wouldn't want to make her jealous!" Sam snorted like he'd just invented the concept of a joke and Dean flung his cards at his floppy-haired fathead in retaliation.

The ensuing jabs of "Bitch" and "Jerk" quickly devolved into an age-inappropriate wrestling match that effectively put an end to the night's game.

Gaining the upper hand, Dean sat heavily on his brother's back. "Give up?"

"Only if it'll get your fat ass off me. Christ, Dean, it wouldn't hurt to eat a salad for once." Sam responded with a hiccupping laugh.

"Wrong answer." Making sure to jostle his weight as much as possible, Dean shifted to glance at where Benny and Victor sat safely out of the way.

"Oh shit. Get off me or I'm gonna puke on your carpet."

At the watery groan Dean launched to his feet in horror. "Dude, I swear I will end you!"

In response Sam rolled over with a triumphant grin while Benny clapped Victor on the back. "Pay up, Chief."

"You're all a bunch of dicks. I don't know why I keep letting you in my place." Dean grumbled sullenly while helping his brother off the floor.

Shortly after, everyone began shuffling toward the door amid the soundtrack of Sam griping that despite the massive quantity of alcohol consumed he could most certainly drive home.

Benny ignored the assurances and tossed Sam's keycard to the eldest Winchester. "You gonna be alright there, brother?"

Dean rolled his eyes at his friend's stone sober demeanor. Thanks to Benny's Strigoi metabolism, he could drink a hundred beers and not even feel a tingle.

_'Alien asshole.'_

Thoughts of his own imminent hangover were interrupted by Victor pushing his credit port into his line of sight.

"Sonofabitch. Yeah, yeah." Dean glared, pulling his own funds device out of his pocket. "The way you keep bleeding me dry, the only thing I'm gonna need you to buy me for my birthday is food."

At the transfer completion chime, Victor grinned and cuffed him on the shoulder. "Good doing business with you, Mr. Winchester."

Dean flipped him the bird then glanced at his brother's bulk propped easily alongside Benny's sturdy frame.

"Sammy, I'll bring your transport by tomorrow."

With a confused protest from the younger Winchester, all three made their way out. The door sliding shut behind them with a complaining whine.

"Piece of shit." Dean vowed to look it over in the morning...if he remembered.

What he did remember though, was the damned ad for _Heavenly Creatures._

_What kinda name was that anyway?_

Apparently the kind that got Dean Winchester's dumbass logging on before he even realized he'd slid the pair of Galax-Sees up the bridge of his nose.

As soon as the page loaded he was struck by the absence of loud noises and bright chaos that were a staple of everyday advertisement. Instead strains of unrecognizable music played softly in the background of the slick, orderly site.

"Friggin' creepy." Dean half-jokingly shuddered.

Clicking the _Hourly_ link brought up a numbered list of male and female forms similar to what he'd seen a thousand times. Except, even generic, they were still in better shape than any of the downtown tinny voiced, jerky 'bots that beckoned from the neon lit doorways of buildings thrumming with music and the promise of a good time.

With a snicker Dean typed in Victor's contact information into the _"FREE promotional vid"_ box, then opened the higher-end category with a flick of his hand.

The difference between the two model lines was immediate and unbelievable; from the silver plates that straddled clavicles with stamped classification letters to the great detail put into making sure each one had unique features. As he scrolled through the most realistic and attractive replicas he'd ever seen Dean could no longer pretend his interest wasn't piqued.

A brooding, dark- haired 'bot identified as _MK-L_ briefly grabbed his attention until the ethereal, redhead from the commercial, _AN-A_ shifted his focus further down the page.

"Holy shit!" He spluttered, catching sight of the pricing as well.

_Why spend so much on these damned things? _

Though he could understand wanting to skirt around the whole messy commitment thing, buying a 'bot was one helluva expensive way to go about it.

Easier just to do what he did. Have a friggin' one-night stand. Get the no-strings attached company _and_ save yourself a shit-ton of money.

Not that Dean was saying there was something wrong with the whole _'Til Death Do You Part_ shebang. Hell, even he'd tried landing his own piece of the apple pie life…more than once, in fact.

Thought he'd found it, when he was younger with Lisa and her son, Ben. Had tried hard to make it work. But no amount of backyard BBQs ever made Dean fit the way he should have if it'd been where he was really supposed to be.

Afterward he'd convinced himself the only Winchester suited for domesticity was Sammy. His younger brother had taken right to the idea of being a happy hubby the minute he'd met Sarah.

For a long time his theory held strong. That was, until Aaron came into Bobby's shop with wild plans for his transport refurb, and left an hour later with Dean flustered and rethinking his previous stance.

It'd been good and they'd had a lot of fun while together. But last year when Aaron was offered an off-planet job, they'd decided, _with no hard feelings_, to part ways.

Dean wasn't complaining. He was happy with where he'd ended up. Good friends and family nearby, staying busy as hell and making great money working for the only transport retro-refurb on this side of the planet. _It was awesome._ What did it matter if he didn't feel the need for anything outside of the occasional fling?

"Nothing wrong with that. _At all_." Dean gave a resolute nod to the empty room while knocking back the last dregs of his warm beer.

_"What the hell are you doing, ya' idjit?"_

At the loud, familiar growl Dean's eyes shot open, only to have an angry, bearded Bobby Singer closer than anyone _ever_needed.

"Sonofabitch." The Galax-Sees flew off Dean's face, skittering across the floor as he tumbled from the couch.

_"Boy, this Milligan job ain't gonna refurb itself." _Bobby's voice continued as Dean looked blearily around the room.

"Shit." Running a hand through his hair, he got to his feet and picked up the frames. "Sorry. Fell asleep without the alarm. I'll be right there."

The old mechanic grunted in response then the screen went dark.

"Goddamned Balok bastards." Empty bottles were knocked over as he stumbled to the bathroom.

Minutes later, washed hands were wiped on yesterday's oil splattered jeans with a shrug as Dean rushed for the door.

"Dammit." Remembering he had to take his light-weight brother his transport, Dean backtracked with a groan and snatched the keycard off the table. Jogging quickly down the stairs and outside he shoved around the street's busy bustle to duck into the coffee place on the corner.

He'd get Bobby one of those frou-frou drinks he liked as an apology for being late. Bring it in to the shop and complain loudly about how they'd gotten the order wrong just so Bobby could grumble and bitch but inevitably drink, _"the goddamned thing so it didn't go to waste."_

The massive crowd continued to jostle past with disregard as Dean reemerged shortly, both hands full of coffee. Only one embarrassingly girly, though_. Dean Winchester drank his black, thank you very much. _His momentary immobility, an annoyance, but not uncommon in the city, was swerved around until he started moving.

Checking the time, he turned the corner toward the garage. Deliveringof his brother's POS transport would have to wait until after lunch. Maybe by then he'd be able to convince Sammy to let him keep it at the shop for a couple more days. Do some much needed work.

It'd been the first thing Sam had purchased when he'd joined the law firmbut that was five years ago. Dean understood being attached to something you'd bought with your _own_ hard earned money. For Christ sake, the kid was close to making partner now. Least he could do was let his awesome brother do a refurb.

If Sam continued to drive around in the rust bucket it was gonna start making _Dean _look bad. And that definitely could _not_ happen.

"Mother fu..." Dean barked as he was unceremoniously slammed into. Hot coffee splashing all over walkway and the entire front of his shirt as he fell on his ass, _hard_.

"Dude, what the hell?" Pulling the soaked material away from his body with a pained hiss, Dean glared up at the dark haired man standing over him.

"My apologies."

There was only a second to take in the rumpled tan trench coat and ridiculous backwards tie before a hand clasped Dean's left shoulder and hauled him to his feet.

"I require assistance, if you can give it." The man's voice rumbled calmly even as sharp fear flashed around the edges of his intense stare.

From the direction the stranger had come, Dean saw two men in business suits making their way aggressively through the crowd. Determined, even as the morning rush of commuters appeared to provide some resistance and seemingly obstructed their target from view. _For the moment._

Dean didn't know anything about the guy in front of him but he _did_ recognize enough, _and nothing good_, about the pair barreling toward them.

In the end, it was the Earth-shattering, raw panic in unreal blue eyes that finalized his decision.

_Hell, he was already late to work anyway._


End file.
